


Winter Forest

by Moorishflower



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-25
Updated: 2010-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twitfic, for the prompt "piercing". Warnings for implied dubcon and spoilers for S6E01 "Exile On Main Street".</p><p>When the stars threw down their spears<br/>And water'd heaven with their tears: <br/>Did he smile his work to see? <br/>Did he who made the Lamb make thee? - William Blake, "The Tyger"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Forest

  
There are a lot of things about Gabriel that require explanation. His casual references to his "children" had led to Sam meeting a handful of mythological monsters (who now call him "Uncle Sammy" whenever Gabriel takes him to visit them), and he's mentioned altars, in the past, which had led to a trip all the way to the frozen forests of Norway, in order to see an ancient pile of stones, well-weathered. Sam had lain upon them and had looked at Gabriel and said, "Did other people lie here? Did you take sacrifices?"

And Gabriel had said "No", but his eyes had flared dark and wild and he had kissed Sam there, on the bone-beaten stones, and Sam had tried to pull his clothes off, despite the desperate chill. Gabriel had stilled his hands and said, "Not yet."

"Not yet" became the anthem of Sam's life. They couldn't, not yet, his brother, our brothers, and then Lucifer and Michael and the cage, that awful place. Sam's life is made of delays and "maybe"s and "not right now"s. He tells Gabriel that he's frustrated. He feels like he's losing himself. What's the difference between him and Lucifer, anyways? He is he and they are the same, they have always been the same, since Sam was born. They were always meant for each other, weren't they?

But Sam escaped the cage, and Gabriel isn't dead, and Gabriel holds him down in the rough sheets while Sam's grandfather is asleep in the next room, and he fucks him until he remembers that there are worse things than death. Like losing yourself. Like wandering in that dark place forever, growing more and more hateful and bitter with each passing month.

Sam spent a single week in Hell, trapped between two vast forces of light and sound and fury, battered like a ship at sea.

It felt like a month.

"What is this," Sam asks. He runs his fingers down Gabriel's stomach, soft and perfect for resting his head against, but right now they are lying curled like commas, Gabriel's knees somewhere near Sam's stomach. He touches his fingertips to the head of Gabriel's cock, humming thoughtfully. There's an indent here, like something used to rest there. Gabriel makes a soft noise, like he's uncomfortable.

"That's old," he says. "Very old. Leave it alone."

  "I want to know."

"There are some things you aren't meant to know."

Sam reaches up, presses his hands to Gabriel's temples. He cannot look him straight in the eye, not the way they're positioned, but he can hear the soft sigh of resignation, the brief surge of power, like wind rustling curtains, and Sam sees –

 _"In order to be a god of excess one must first show restraint," and Sigyn holds him still by the fire with her smallsoft hands while the white-hot gold inches closer, and he is an angel and he is a god, but nothing has ever hurt so much as this. It's like tearing out his heart, it's like watching Lucifer fall, and he can feel some part of him escaping, fleeing into the dark, secret safety of the cold forest outside. Sigyn smiles at him and says, "Now, you are my husband. Make love to me," and Gabriel can't, he can't, it hurts. This is what it is like to be human for a day. This is what it's like to be without power._

Sam pulls his hands back, eyes closed, sweat dotting his forehead. He takes a deep breath, and Gabriel echoes him, a sigh of longing. "Why did you do it?' he asks.

"Because I thought I had to," Gabriel answers.

"What happened to her?"  

"Sigyn? She's still around, as far as I know. We don't exactly talk since I died."

Sam considers Gabriel's soft belly, the indent, the delicate arches of his feet and the curves of his calves. "Because I thought I had to" is just as obscure and strange a thing to say as "maybe" or "not right now". Sam understands it, because he has done it, too. For the greater good. Or so he thought.

He falls asleep listening to Gabriel's breathing and the snores of his grandfather and his cousins in the other room, thinking that Norway is a very long ways away, but his grandfather knows people, people who owe the Campbell family favors.

~

Three weeks later, Sam holds Gabriel in the dark comfortable secrecy of midnight in a motel that he can't remember the name of, and he pulls a small box from underneath the scratchy pillow.

"What is it?"

"Just...open it."

Gabriel does. He empties it into his palm, and holds the bloody-golden lock of hair like he is afraid of breaking it. He rubs it between his fingers. The dried blood flakes off, powders his skin with burgundy-brown.

"You've changed," Gabriel says, and Sam kisses the corner of his mouth.  

"Everything changes. That doesn't mean it has to be bad."


End file.
